And the World Tips
by Bathyscaphe
Summary: The world has tilted on its side, shifting everything out of place and everyone into new roles.  But now that the great battle for the savior is over daily life must resume in a post-apocalyptic world. A life Audrey owes to the Archangel Gabriel.
1. Prologue

Title: And the World Tips

Summary: The world has tilted on its side, shifting everything out of place and everyone into new roles. But now that the great battle for the savior is over daily life must resume in a post-apocalyptic world. And Audrey owes her life to the Archangel Gabriel.

Author: Bathyscaphe  
>Disclaimer: <em>Legion<em> is property of Bold Films. Not a fanfiction writer, however much they would like to own the gross production of _any_ movie.  
>Pairing: AudreyGabriel

Characters: Audrey, Gabriel and others  
>AN: I would enjoy some good, thoughtful critique and ideas on how I can improve my writing style, background original characters and characterization of the movie's characters. Note please, that while the prologue contains no Audrey the rest of the story will.

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><p>"Now this is just <em>too<em> funny."

The old stories describe the demon Belphegor as a beautiful woman. Gabriel thinks they have it wrong- she lacks the breath taking beauty of a true angel or the lust inspiring splendor of her brother Asmodeus. She's pretty enough, in a rugged way- a sharp face, broad muscled shoulders and arms, black hair cut roughly around her strong jaw and unnatural, unnerving yellow eyes. Her time in hell has done nothing for her looks- Gabriel remembers she used to have the loveliest white wings- now they are singed to black and the feathers have been stripped away in places, giving her the look of a molting pigeon.

"Demon." He greets. And then, since he is trying to be civil "Belphegor the Slothful. What is so funny?"

She smiles in a sad, hopeless way that makes him understand some of her ascribed myth and Gabriel remembers that part of Sloth is also Despair.

"That all it took to get us talking again was the Apocalypse." She says softly. "When you summoned me here did you plan to kill me? I was wondering whether to answer your call or not. I hope I chose well." her eyes flicker to the mace resting against his knee. Gabriel makes no move to get up.

"No. Simply to talk. And we have spoken since your fall from grace, though not civilly." He reminds her.

Belphegor snorts incredulously and sinks into the rubble, easily finding a seat and a place to prop up her feet. She settles quickly and closes her eyes. For all intents and purposes she looks as if she has been sleeping there for a thousand years.

"Spoken?" She says skeptically. "More like screamed at each other from across battle fields. I think you threatened to kill me at least three hundred times now. You know, if I had the energy I would hold a very big grudge. I think you might have even given me a scar from the last time we fought." She finishes the uncharacteristically long speech with a yawn and shifts slightly amongst the shattered concrete, finding a position that allows her to lay her head down.

"I remember you fought with surprising ferocity for the Lord of Sloth." Humor colors his voice ever so slightly. He remembers their battles well, though due to her cowardliness they were few and far between.

"I can be vicious when my life and precious nap time are on the line." She answers good humoredly. "So, God's Left Hand, Messenger of the Most Holy and Soldier of Heaven. Why did you call me here? What was so important that you would talk to one of Lucifer's generals?"

His body remains as unmoving as stone but behind him his wings twitch slightly, showing his anticipation. He is not a creature inclined to dependence, even on his own brothers. To trust this monster that has been his enemy since Satan first fell, even with the smallest particle of knowledge, it shakes him deeply, to his divine foundation. Still, there was no one else to ask. No angel had questioned God's orders and maintained their position, non except Michael and his brother had only smiled and told him to find his own answers. Thus, to understand this new world with it's upside down laws, he needed someone who had rebelled before, however unsuccessfully.

"I seek advice." He tells her, his voice hushed. To even ask this of a demon, to admit that God did not hold all the answers, is blasphemy of the highest order.

Belphegor laughs.

"You know, this _really_ is ironic. Gabriel, the most diligent of God's angels is asking me, Belphegor, _sloth_ _personified_ for advice. What do you need, a good excuse for when you play hookey? I have several saved up in case Lucifer should call on me."

Gabriel pauses, still unsure of himself.

"Tell me, why did you rebel?" he asks.

The question takes Belphegor by surprise.

"That's a bit personal, don't you think?" She asks. Gabriel doesn't answer, instead remains unmoving, waiting for an answer. Eventually his patience wins out. She gives a long sigh and sits up with a wince and a slight stretch, signifying that she is giving him her full attention.

"It was too sad." Belphegor answers mournfully and something about it rings true, though it wasn't the answer he expected.

"It was too sad, to know all that was going to happen to Man throughout the ages. The wars, the famine and plagues, the genocide and then the end of days. And why? Because Eve ate the apple? But did not God first _make_ them rebellious? Omnipotent and omniscient as the Father is, it would seem he's punishing them for following the nature he first created for them. And, because of the unfairness of it all, and because it made me so sad, I rebelled."

They sit there for a minute in comfortable silence, letting the heavy words settle in the air. In the distance, he can hear crickets. Then Belphegor chuckles darkly.

"And look where it got me, right? Hell is… literally hell on my back. I think I've ruined my spine." She stretches and a few feathers fall from her wings, revealing even more of the tendons and raw muscles underneath. "So why do you ask, Gabriel?"

He doesn't pause this time, just answers as honestly as she had.

"I have lost my way. I no longer know what path I follow."

She raises an eye brow, almost crookedly.

"And you want me to point out the right one?"

He nods, always the silent one.

Belphegor stands up and then abruptly turns and starts walking away. Her voice is raspy over her shoulder.

"Nope. No can do. Nice talking to you though. We should do this again sometimes. Give me a heads up, I'll put on a kettle first and we can have Early Grey. Really soothing stuff."

She's just raised a hand in goodbye when he snatches it up and spins her around, forcing her to face him. He's had enough of being jerked around by God and by Micheal, neither of whom he can confront. But here, a demon, is something he can take his frustration out on.

"_Answer me_!" He commands in his true voice. A human would not be able to withstand it. Belphegor doesn't combust, but it brings her to her knees and she gasps, barely able to breath. Her free hand clutches at her chest and the human form she's taken on wheezes pitifully, slowly forcing air into her lungs and then finally regaining her breath.

But when she looks up at him, it's with pity. Belphegor climbs back to her feet slowly, extracting her hand from his loosened grip and gives the bruised limb a good once over. When she's established she's still in once piece, the Lord of Sloth answers him.

"You need to find your own way, Archangel. That's what Michal figured out."

"But how?" And he sounds young and helpless even though he has watched time progress since it first began.

And because she is ever the impossible brat, Belphogor rolls her eyes.

"Dumbass. It's your _own_ way, I can't _tell_ you. I'd _suggest_ starting with the blonde though."

And then with massive wing beats she leaves, the only thing remaining is the acrid smell of sulfur and a few blackened feathers.

The blonde. Gabriel thinks it over. It's not a bad place to start.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I haven't written anything in quite a while, so I suppose I'm getting used to this again going to try and take it slow.

It was raining. For some ridiculous, cliché reason it was raining. Worse than that is was raining heavily with immensely powerful winds and the moisture was getting in between his feathers, and making flying impossible. So instead he had to walk, leaving deep imprints in the mud.

The weight in his arms isn't heavy, but it was beginning to irritate the stomach wound he'd thought was closed. And while she was light, the blood seeping from her leg was making young Audrey rather slippery.

Humans aren't nearly as hardy as angels. In fact, during the battle of Paradise Falls Gabriel was shocked at just how fragile their bodies were. So easily broken and shattered and bent to serve others purposes. And now the small girl in his arms is bent and broken as well, through his own doing.

Gabriel looks down. Audrey's blonde hair is stained to a pinkish color by the blood. He feels some low grade unhappiness, not much more than, he imagines, the way a human feels over a dying goldfish. It's sad, but sad in a way that's rather far off, somewhat removed from him. She is, after all, a lesser being.

The lesser being in discussion shivered and unconsciously shifts in his arms, seeking warmth. Gabriel sighs, remembering Belphegor's words to him. A suggestion he should start with the blonde. But what did that mean? Save her soul? Her broken body? Aggravation gnawed at him and the rain stinging his face along with the painful stomach wound did nothing for the Archangel's mood.

If he was going to do any saving he had to at least keep her alive. Gabriel brought his wings around the small girl, shielding her from the buffeting rain. His tired shoulders groan in protest but he holds the wings up anyways. It's easy to push himself when he has a mission, easy no matter how hard it is in every other way. But right now, with no orders, no assurance that he is doing the right things and with God now fallible, doing anything at all has become unimaginably hard.

He stumbles through the door half-blind, dizzy from blood loss. The house is abandoned and has been for a while- probably due to current human economic conditions instead of the apocalypse. He can smell the musky scent of the mold that lines the walls and hear the small patter of cockroaches scuttling away from his heavy footsteps. Still, it will do. He settles Audrey on the plastic covered dining room table and goes to the household's bathroom. A bottle of iodine sits behind the mirror and a needle and thread underneath the sink. He snatches these up along with a few of the hand towels sitting on the sink.

There are internal injuries he can't deal with very well, but he does the best he can. The leg is the most problematic- blood seeps heavily from it and the exposed marrow could kill her just as quickly as the blood loss. It takes several tries, but he eventually snaps the bone back into place and then sews the skin shut around it. A proper splint is made out of metal from a folding chair and tied to her leg with the ragged towels. Iodine is poured on everything, often bubbling around the wound and hissing against her skin angrily, reminding him of a stew in a cauldron from the middle ages, back when mankind was more pious and less prone to blasphemy even if they sinned as often as modern humans.

Her chest is also injured-he can tell by the severe bruising, the blood that pools heavily under the skin. There's really nothing he can do for them except keep her still and hope none of her ribs has pierced her lungs. Beyond that, most of the wounds are minor- cuts that need to be sown shut are done so hastily if a bit inelegantly. He really does need to see to his own wounds.

Audrey is in and out of consciousness for most of it- sometimes she whimpers, barely awake, sometimes her eyes widen and she even takes a few weak swipes at his face, her eyes wide with terror. The worst is when he snaps her leg into place- a truly bestial scream makes its way out of her mouth, rooted in the base of her human nature; fear and escape from pain. Gabriel remains the pitiless, patient worker through out, applying the needle that's meant for fixing corduroy at best, not thick human skin.

With Audrey fixed up as best as he can manage, Gabriel sinks onto the soggy, abandoned couch and begins to work on his own large stomach wound. It takes many tries to get the needle threaded and he looses hold of it several times when the blood coats his fingers. Halfway through the thin scrap of metal bends the wrong way and he has to stick between his teeth in order to rework the shape. When he puts the needle back to work he can taste the copper of his own blood on his tongue. It's funny, but human blood smells exactly like his own tastes.

When he is finally patched up the combination of exhaustion and blood loss begin to overwhelm him. At the corners of his eyes black spots appear and his already blurry vision practically swims. Heavy limbs feel like lead and his armor has worn his skin raw in places.

On the plastic covered table, Audrey shivers in her sleep. Gabriel shuts his eyes for a moment, stabling himself and then rips the remaining curtains from the window, covering her in the cloth. It's not much, but it's better than nothing and he doesn't have the strength to go flying in search of coverings for her.

The Archangel sits against the wall of the decaying house, hazy vision focused on his ward. With each breath she could be healing or dying. At this point, whether she survives through the night and the coming days is entirely up to chance, and perhaps divine will.


End file.
